Inebriation
by calliopeiamuse08
Summary: Booth gets plastered and says a little more than he intended to; lucky for him, he doesn't remember. Brennan does, but she's unsure of what to make of it. B&B, all the way. Ch 5: The adventure continues in the privacy of Booth's apartment.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: _Howdy folks! Welcome to my latest B&B fic. Sooner or later, necking will occur: that's the Calliopeiamuse08 guarantee. This fic is a bit of a scary one for me, because the first chapter features Drunk!Booth, which I have never written before. Please review and let me know how I did. I love all reviews equally, as if they were my own children - moreso, in fact, because I have no children. When you review, you fill up my empty, empty life with tokens of appreciation that I can delude myself into mistaking for legitimate human affection. So please do! :D_

_Anyhoo, the chapter is below. You know what to do. _

* * *

**Sunday, March 21, 11:47 pm. **

"And the thing is, I _want_ Rebecca to be happy," Booth slurred, hunched over the bar, "and this guy, he's like, a good guy, you know? Like, a _really_ good guy. So why am I so… _miserable_?"

This was the most inebriated that Brennan had ever seen Booth. It was amusing, but sad at the same time, since he obviously felt a lot of emotional turmoil over Rebecca's wedding.

"Maybe it's because, now, I know she'll _never _take me back," he mused. "There maybe was a chance before but now, never. Never. But the thing is, Bones, I don't _want_ to be back with Rebecca. At least, I don't think I do. Can you want something and not know you want it?" He threw back another shot and slammed down the glass.

Brennan glanced at the glass with some anxiety. "Maybe it's time you went home," she suggested. "I can give you a ride."

He stared at the glass. "Ummm. Okay. But how about some more Jack Daniels first?"

"No," she told him firmly. "You've had enough."

In the car, he resumed the train of thought he'd been pursuing in the bar. "Maybe it's because of Parker. Maybe I'm worried that Parker won't want his _real_ dad when he's got a stepdad. Probably buying him gifts and shit. Which is stupid, right? Because the guy's an accountant, and everybody… everybody knows FBI is _way _cooler than accountant. I will always be Parker's cool dad. I will _always_ be Parker's cool dad."

He rested his head against the window, and put his hand on the glass. "_I will always be Parker's cool dad_," he mumbled. Then he turned his head back to Brennan. "What was I talking about before?"

"You were trying to discern why Rebecca's wedding upset you," she reminded him.

"Oh, yessssss," he said, hissing the word between his clenched teeth. Then he chuckled. "You know what Sweets would say? Sweets would say, it's because, it's because _Rebecca's_ life is moving forward, and not mine."

"Here we are," Brennan announced, pulling up to the apartment complex. "I'll walk you up."

Booth snorted. "You'll walk me up. You'll walk me up. Listen, Bones, I am A-o-kay." He rolled his head towards the daunting-looking set of stairs, and reconsidered. "Okay, I will _let_ you come up with me. This one times. Alright?"

They struggled up the stairs, and made it to the door. Booth produced his key, but Brennan unlocked the door herself to save time. She led him into his living room and unceremoniously plopped him on the couch.

"Her life is moving _forward_," he continued. "Mine is not. She's married, and what have I got?" He flung his arms wide, gesturing around to the apartment. "An empty _apartment_. A _TV_. A _couch_. Not a girlfriend, not a wife."

"You have me," Brennan reminded him. "I _brought_ you to your empty apartment, remember?"

He beamed at her. "Oh yeah. You're the best, Bones." Then his face fell. "But I don't really have you."

Brennan was confused. She knew it was just drunken rambling, but still… "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you don't love me back," Booth explained, closing his eyes and laying down on the couch. "And you're so pretty, and you go out with all these guys, and it's like you don't even _see_ how much I want to be with you, how much I love you…" He sighed a long-suffering sigh. "And I can't _tell _you because then you'll just – you'll just get a new partner, that's what you'll do. And then I'll be all alone in the world."

"I… see," Brennan said slowly, uncertain of how to take this news.

Suddenly the words he had just spoken seemed to register in Booth's mind, and his eyes snapped open. "Oh! Shit! I just _told _you!" he exclaimed, smacking his forehead. "Please don't be mad, I'm really sorry, I didn't – I wasn't going to tell you. I'm _really_ sorry."

Brennan leaned down and awkwardly patted his shoulder. "It's… alright, Booth. Just – go to sleep." She was more than a little shaken by his words, but she still wasn't sure out how much to write off to the high alcohol content of his blood and how much was sincere.

He seemed to calm down. "Alright. Alright. Sleep. Sleep sounds good. Thanks for driving me home," he said.

She smiled at him. "You're welcome." She turned to leave.

"Hey, Bones," he whispered, in a very loud stage whisper that could have been heard by anyone in the room.

She turned back. "Yes?"

"Since I already said it…" He looked at her then with such reverence and adoration shining in his eyes that for a moment she lost her breath. "I _love_ you. I really do. "

"Well. Thank you," she stammered, and she quickly left the apartment, uncertain of what to think or feel.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: _Oh, you guys... *scuffs shoe bashfully, blushes* You guys are just the nicest reviewers ever. Please accept this free David Boreanaz and box of wine as a token of my gratitude. Feel free to recreate your own Drunk!Booth scenario at home, wink wink nudge nudge.* Oh, and if you could keep on reviewing in a similar fashion, I would be forever indebted._

_This chapter is a tad disjointed, but it's all very necessary to advance the plot and whatnot. I know, I know, you're thinking, "Who cares about the plot? I want a shirtless Booth gettin' down with the good doctor!" But I, being one of those terrible fanfic writers who take their stories seriously, insist upon at least some semblance of a story arc. So there. You are just going to have to _wait patiently.

_And now, back to your regularly scheduled programming._

_*Author is not suggesting you take advantage of an inebriated Boreanaz; once his blood alcohol limit reaches a certain level, he can no longer legally give consent. Please, kids, drink responsibly and don't violate your Boreanaz. They are our nation's most precious resource - if we don't care for them, one day they could all be gone.**_

_**Author got confused about whether her public service announcement was about sexual assault or environmentalism. Sorry._

* * *

**Monday, March 22, 9:31 am. **

Dr. Sweets looked at Booth pointedly. "Agent Booth, could you remove your sunglasses? We _are_ indoors, after all."

"It's too bright," he muttered. "How 'bout I just leave 'em on?"

"I prefer to be able to see your eyes, Agent Booth," Dr. Sweets insisted.

Slowly, grudgingly, painfully, Booth took off his sunglasses. Brennan noted the dark shadows around his eyes and the pallor of his skin. She supposed that this was meant by the term "you look like hell."

"You're hung over," Dr. Sweets observed.

"No shit, Sherlock," Booth growled.

"He drank heavily last night," Brennan volunteered. "I… probably should have made sure he was properly hydrated. Then he wouldn't be feeling so poorly now."

Booth glanced askance at her. "Wait, _you _should have…?"

"Yes, Booth, I was there," she replied uneasily. "You called me and I sat with you at the bar for awhile, and then I took you home. Don't you remember?"

Dr. Sweets watched the two of them with interest.

"Not… exactly," Booth admitted. "I remember… rambling on to somebody about Rebecca. That was you?"

"Yes."

He chewed the inside of his lip thoughtfully. "Huh. Well, uh, thanks for taking me home."

"You're welcome." Inwardly, Brennan was more than a little pleased at this turn of events. _He doesn't remember what he said, which means that we don't need to discuss it. Crisis averted. _

_I doubt he meant it, in any case. Bringing it up would only serve to create awkwardness._

"Now, Agent Booth," Sweets began, "maybe you should explain why you were drinking last night, considering that you're in the middle of a case…"

~*~

**Tuesday, March 23, 2:09 pm. **

"And as you can see," Angela concluded, "the victim would have had to have been lying down when he was murdered."

"Angela, do you think intoxication can make people say things they don't mean?" Brennan blurted out. They question had been lingering in the back of her mind for the last two days, and now that she was alone with Angela it had burst into the forefront.

Angela stared at her in confusion. "What are you talking about, sweetie?"

"I understand the physiological effects of alcohol on brain function very well," Brennan explained, "but I'm curious about the more… sentimental effects, if that's the right word. Do you believe it can cause you to feel things that you wouldn't normally feel?"

Angela turned off her tablet and set it on the desk, giving Brennan a pointed look as if she were a child with a stolen cookie behind her back. "Brennan. I'm going to need more than that. Spill."

"Well, an acquaintance said some things to me while intoxicated," she admitted. "And I strongly doubt that he was sincere, but he _looked _very sincere."

Angela sighed. "Okay. Here's the thing, sweetie. Booze skews your perceptions and lowers your inhibitions. It makes you suggestible, allows you to open up and do things you wouldn't normally do, and it also makes you think this is a really great idea."

Brennan nodded. She knew all this; it wasn't as if she'd never been inebriated herself.

"And it makes you say things you wouldn't normally say. Things you'd keep secret, or that maybe you'd only think," she continued. "And it can amplify your feelings, ergo Vegas weddings. But I don't think alcohol _invents_ feelings. I actually believe that people are a lot more honest when they're drunk. They're more likely to do something crazy than tell you a lie." She smiled. "So if you went out with some guy who made out with another dude while drunk, you could be in the clear. But if he _told_ you he thinks he's gay when he was drunk…" She winced. "Probably a lost cause. In my personal experience, anyways."

"Oh." Brennan felt disappointed and yet – there was an odd twisting in her stomach, something akin to anxiety or anticipation. "So what he said was probably true."

"Well, at least _he_ thought it was true, at the time," Angela cautioned. "What exactly did he say?"

"He said –" Brennan suddenly stumbled on the words, unable to admit them even to Angela. "He said that he was in love with his coworker. He doesn't remember what he said that night, so it's difficult to discern if he meant it."

Angela's face fell. "Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry. Usually confessions of love are one of those 'honest drunk' things. I hope you weren't going after him."

Brennan's heart beat strangely fast. "No, it's fine." She crossed to her desk and began the reassuring process of burying herself in her work.

"Oh, no, you really _did_ like him," Angela deduced, biting her lip sympathetically. "Who was it?"

"No one you've met." Brennan refused to make eye contact, knowing that Angela would see the lie with one glance.

It seemed that she didn't need to look into Brennan's eyes after all. She smacked her palms flat on the desk; Brennan could feel her staring in shock. "Oh my god. It was you, wasn't it? The coworker he was in love with was you!"

"Wouldn't I have said that in the first place, then?" Brennan asked, growing irritated.

"And the only coworker… that could have been drinking with you…" Angela continued slowly, deliberately.

"Stop speculating, Angela!" she snapped. "Isn't there a murder we're supposed to be solving?"

Angela stepped back from the desk. "Okay, I get it. No need to be hostile."

"Sorry," Brennan muttered.

"But you know, Brennan, there's an easy answer to all this."

Brennan finally looked at Angela. "What?"

"_Talk _to him," she advised. "When he's sober. Ask him how he really feels."

Brennan returned her gaze to the computer. "I'd rather let sleepy dogs sleep."

"You'd rather let sleeping dogs lie," Angela corrected. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Whatever, Brennan. I can't live your life for you, but I think you're making a big mistake." She grabbed her tablet and left the office, casting one last disappointed look back at Brennan before exiting.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: _Why, howdy there! Bless my soul, if it isn't the nicest group of fanfic readers this side of the Mississippi! Seriously though, guys, I super appreciate your lovely reviews. Let me just tell you, other fanfic communities don't even _compare_ to you guys. I've written some Supernatural stuff on this site, and getting reviews over there can be like pulling teeth! You guys are so wonderfully responsive; you are what makes writing fanfiction worthwhile for me. So now that I've hopefully thoroughly embarrassed you, may I add... _Please keep reviewing!_ Every review is like a rainbow-shaped marshmallow in the bowl of Lucky charms that is my life. Not to mention, everyone who reviews gets a free David Boreanaz and a copy of my bestselling video, "Your Boreanaz and You: Making the Most of Your Ridiculously Attractive Man."*_

_And now, on to the chapter in whence things get _real,_ y'all._

_*Video is not actually a bestseller; in fact, no one except for author has seen said video. May or may not include product placement for the David Boreanaz-Approved Home Gym.™_

* * *

**Thursday, March 25, 10:22 pm. **

Booth and Bones sat at Booth's kitchen table, chuckling over another lab-related anecdote. They were having at their usual post-case celebratory drink, enjoying each other's company and a few beers. This was his second favorite part of the case, actually; the part where he and Bones got to have a little quality time, where they got to stop being partners and start being just _people_. He could trace back the moment that he and Bones started being friends to the moment when he realized that she was more than just an anthropologist, more than just another squint with the personal goal of making his life complicated. This part of the case always reminded him of that fact.

Not that he forgot much nowadays. Nowadays, it was impossible to think of her as merely his professional colleague. _She's my best friend_, Booth suddenly realized. _And I think I'm one of hers. I hope._

Bones drained the last few drops from her bottle; he could see her register its emptiness with disappointment. "I suppose I should be going now. It's getting late."

"It's not that late! C'mon, stay a little longer, have another beer," Booth urged.

"I have to drive," Bones pointed out, but her eyes sparkled and she looked just a _little_ tempted by his offer. She stood up from the table and went to get her purse and coat.

He followed her across the room, a vague notion of standing between her and the door floating in his head. "You can always call a cab and get your car tomorrow," he suggested.

She slid on her jacket, and shot him an 'oh, you and your silly ideas' sort of look.

Before he realized what he was saying, he found the words slipping out. "Or, you could just… stay."

Bones stopped, suddenly caught in his gaze like a deer in the headlights. He could see the wheels in her head turning, see her puzzling out something and at the same time, her face was a blank mask – he had no idea what it _was_ she was discerning, what she was searching for in his eyes. For a moment, a hazy memory flashed through his mind: Bones, leaning over him to pat him on the shoulder, wearing that same expression. All at once he got the feeling that he'd said a little too much the other night, the night he barely remembered – and here he was, doing it again.

Against his better instinct, he cracked a lopsided smile. _Just kidding_, the smile said. It felt like a lie.

She mirrored his smile, and at once the tension dissipated and the air returned to the room. She continued buttoning up her jacket. "Very funny, Booth. I'll see you tomorrow." Bones reached for the door.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked playfully.

She glanced about the room. "No, I only brought my purse and my jacket."

Booth gave her a patronizing smile. "You forgot to admit that I was right."

"Right about what?" Bones asked, perplexed.

"The suspect with the shifty eyes!" Booth exclaimed, surprised she could have already forgotten. "_You_ said it wasn't scientifically possible for him to be the murderer, and I said that he_ was_ the murderer and _I was right._"

Bones rolled her eyes. "The man _lied _about his alibi, Booth! _If _his alibi had been true, it _wouldn't_ have been possible. All you said, and I quote, is that he 'gave you the creeps' and that you had 'a feeling he was holding out on us.' That hardly qualifies as damning evidence. The damning evidence, if you'll recall, was provided by me and the excellent staff of the Jeffersonian!"

"But still." Booth maintained his smug smirk. "I was right."

Bones made a face of disgust. "Superiority is unbecoming on you," she lied, irritation and… something else… evident in her eyes. "You should really stop smiling like that."

"Make me," Booth teased.

All of the sudden, a strangely determined expression came over Bones' face, and Booth remembered how seriously Temperance Brennan took challenges.

_Uh oh. _

Bones closed space between them in two long strides, put one hand on either side of his face, and crushed her mouth to his.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N:_ Since this is the moment you've all been waiting for, I won't keep you long. Lemme just say - thanks. You guys rock. Boreanazes are in the mail. More Boreanazes are forthcoming, for those who review. Other members of the cast available upon request._

_And now, the real deal: Booth and Brennan and physical contact. Enjoy!_

* * *

**Thursday, March 25, 10:27 pm. **

She kissed him fiercely, violently; he could _feel_ that she was proving a point by the force alone. But like it or not, his body reacted before his brain could and he was kissing her back just as brutally, his hands grasping her hips and dragging her closer. His senses were overwhelmed by her, consumed with her – the warm taste of her lips (laced with a hint of beer), the sweet scent of her skin, the silky smoothness of her blouse and the sound of her short, gasping breaths in between each meeting of mouth to mouth.

It was fantastic.

And then Booth wasn't sure when, but at some point, the kiss stopped being about their argument and started being about – kissing. Maybe it was when she moved her hands from his face to the back of his head and neck; maybe it was when he slid his hands from her hips to her waist. But for a minute, they weren't just trying to eat each other alive; they were really, truly… connecting. He stumbled backwards a bit (to be honest, he was feeling a little weak in the knees), and felt the backs of his legs bump against the couch, and he suddenly got an image of falling into the sofa and Bones having her way with him, and he was more than happy with that possibility.

And it seemed like things really were heading in that direction until Bones stopped to come up for air, and realized what she' d been doing. What they were in the _midst_ of doing. What it was becoming quickly apparent they were _about _to do. She blinked, grabbed her purse, said, "Good night, Booth," in her perfectly professional squint voice, walked to the door, and left.

Booth gaped, stared at the door for a second, and then came to his senses. He ran out into the hall. "Bones!"

She spun around, startled.

"You can't just – just leave!" he stammered. "Let's, uh, let's talk about this!"

"What is there to talk about?" Bones asked, the slightest smile teasing at her lips.

"What is there – _what is there_?" Booth was beside himself. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Well, how about that kiss, for starters?" _I mean, I know why _I _enjoyed it, but _you_ on the other hand…_

Now she put on her most innocent, oblivious face. "You challenged me to make you stop smirking," she explained matter-of-factly. "I accepted the challenge. I believe I won."

He marched down the hallways towards her. "Oh, c'mon, Bones. I know you and I are both pros at denial, but even you can't pretend nothing happened just now."

Bones nodded. "You're right, Booth. That kiss was… abnormal."

"_Abnormal_?" he exclaimed. "Jeez, way to make a guy feel… Look. Bones." He tried to convey the seriousness of what he was about to say (_I can't believe I'm about to say this_) in his eyes, looking directly into hers and refusing to let go. "I felt something. I _feel _something. For you."

She seemed to understand what he was trying to say, and she returned his concentrated gaze with the same intensity, captivating him just as much as he was trying to captivate her.

He took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his throat. _Past the point of no return_. "And I need to know: do you feel something too?"

She opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She cleared her throat. "In all honesty, Booth…"

He waited, unable to even breathe.

She closed her eyes momentarily. "I felt… something. I _feel_ something. I'm not – I'm not a robot, you know. I _have_ these emotions but I just – I simply don't let them get the best of me. Most of the time. It's not that I don't feel these things, I just use my better judgment and… quash those feelings."

"Then stop," he told her bluntly.

She stared at him, amazed. "Booth. We've been partners for five years. I'm not going to jeopardize that for some fleeting sexual satisfaction, and it's very foolish of you to suggest doing so."

"This _isn't_ about that, and you know it," Booth growled, surprising even himself with his intensity. "My feelings for you run a _lot_ deeper than my libido, okay? And if yours don't, that's fine, but I don't think that's the case. 'Cause I think if it was, it would be a lot easier for you to walk away right now."

She made a snort of disbelief, but he could see the uncertainty in those shining blue eyes.

"That hesitation you're feeling right now," he continued, "that doubt? That's your heart, telling you that I might be right. There's more between us than 'just partners', Bones, and there's more than a little unsatisfied sexual tension. It's worth fighting for. _We're_ worth fighting for." He stepped in closer to her, and lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper, forcing himself to say the words before he chickened out. "I've been waiting and waiting for the right moment and that moment is _now_, Bones! Most people spend their whole lives looking for something we've already got!" _Don't say the L-word Don't say the L-word Don't say the L-word –_ "The fact is, Bones, I love you."

Her face was frozen, expressionless, unreadable. She seemed oddly –not surprised. But something else – what was that in her eyes? Almost the look of someone teetering on a precipice, wobbling and uncertain.

He swallowed hard, choking back his fear and trepidation. "And frankly, I'd never forgive myself if I didn't at least ask you – if there's even the slightest chance that you love me back, I'm _begging_ you. Give me the benefit of the doubt. Give us a fighting chance!"

For one heart-stopping second, they were suspended in silence, eyes locked together, the tension almost a physical presence in the narrow hallway.

And then her mouth was on his again, and his heart started beating again, and the world started turning again, and he let himself get lost in the sheer bliss that was Temperance Brennan.

* * *

**EDIT**: _This chapter was posted a couple of months before the 100th episode aired and, I must say. I was friggin' PISSED because it basically played out just like this, in which Booth takes a risk, begs her to take it with him, and calls her out on her excuses. Except, of course, on the show IT DIDN'T WORK. This is why we have fanfiction, people. Because Hart Hanson is so, so cruel. _


	5. Chapter 5

A/N:_ What was that? You'd appreciate it if Booth and Brennan would stop kissing each other and got on with their lives, because honestly it's just a little nauseating?* _

_Well, too bad, because I love it, and it's _never going to end!_ Well, that's a lie. They have to get out of bed some time. Crimes to solve and all that. But more smoochies and snuggles are on the menu, and extra good fun times plus lovies galore! _Then_ once we get that out of our systems, we'll move on. But first - can I get a "bow chicka wow wow?" Because it's gonna get steamy in here! _

_Everyone who reviewed, of course, gets a lovely Boreanaz or whatever cast member they've requested, plus a Super-soaker with which to conduct their very own wet T-shirt contests. So if you haven't reviewed - look what you're missing out on! Better get on this opportunity before time runs out. _

_And now, may I recommend the house specialty, the Chapter?_

_*No one, in the entire span of the author's authorship, has ever suggested this. However, this is what many fear will happen if our illustrious protagonists hook up on the show. Author believes this is poppycock. _

* * *

"Booth," she panted, tugging his shirt over his shoulders. "I think there's something I should tell you."

He was busy with the task of unbuttoning her blouse, momentarily pausing to cast his shirt off. "What?" he asked breathlessly.

"I – aah – I was manipulating you earlier," Brennan gasped, his hot mouth suddenly on her collarbone. "I wasn't merely trying to – to keep you from smiling."

"I know," he murmured, kissing her on the lips, hand moving to slide up her thigh as she wrapped one leg around him. He pushed her forward, pressing her up against the wall. "Don't care."

"Sunday night," she managed to continue, clinging desperately to the train of thought that was becoming hazier and hazier as he moved his lips to the underside of her jaw. "The night you were drunk. You don't remember…"

That seemed to finally catch his attention. He pulled away from her slightly so that he could look into her eyes. "What happened?"

"You said that you loved me."

He was surprised, she saw. He really didn't remember.

"And I wasn't sure whether or not to believe you, so…" She suddenly felt exposed, somewhat ashamed of her dishonesty and secretiveness. "I decided that tonight I would find out, and when I saw the opportunity… I'm sorry, Booth. I should have just asked you."

"_Bones_," he chuckled, smoothing her hair behind her ears and letting his hands gently cup her face. "Do you hear me complaining about your approach?"

"No," she replied, frowning. "Does that mean you're not offended?"

"Not this time. In the future, just talk to me, alright?" He smiled, his eyes dark and his face flushed, and Brennan thought for a moment that he truly was the most handsome man she'd ever known. She kissed him, slow and warm and sweet, and let herself get drunk on the heady liquor that was (metaphorically speaking, of course) Seeley Booth.

////\\\\

"Booth?" She absently traced his sternum with her finger.

He made a faint "I'm listening" noise, clearly in the process of falling into a deep slumber.

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Tell you what?" he mumbled. His fingers began to stroke through her hair.

She sighed, and placed her hand flat against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin. "Tell me how you felt about me."

His other hand reached up and rested on top of hers. "I tried," he murmured. "But somehow I could never quite do it. I wanted to be sure you felt the same way." She could feel him lift his head up, feel looking down at her. "I was waiting for you to tell me first, I guess."

"You could have been waiting a long time, then," she admitted. "I wasn't aware of how strongly I felt until –" The words caught in her throat.

His thumb caressed the back of her hand. "Until what?"

"Until you asked me to give you the benefit of the doubt," she whispered. "And I felt a pain in my chest, and I realized that I would give you _anything_ you asked, whatever the cost. The benefit of the doubt is the least I can provide."

His hand squeezed hers, and his arm came around her shoulders. "Thanks, Bones."

What she wanted to say next was difficult; it was somehow easier in the dark, where she couldn't see his face, wasn't looking into his eyes. "I…" Her mouth went dry. "I love you, Booth."

He kissed the top of her head. "I love you too." A moment later, he laughed softly. "Whatever I ask, huh? So if I need a kidney, I know who to come to."

"Not necessarily," she corrected. "Your doctor would have to perform tests first that to verify I was a suitable match –"

"Bones. I'm just kidding," he assured her.

Brennan smiled. "I know. That doesn't mean you can't be accurate."

"Alright then, if I ever need a kidney, I will find out if you're able to be a donor and _then_ I will ask for one of yours, okay, Dr. Brennan?" he teased.

"Alright." She snuggled into him, pressing her body against his. "But in actuality, you'd be encouraged to find a donor of blood relation, preferably your brother –"

"Bones!"


End file.
